


The Magic in the Garden

by isacsm



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kuroshitsuji Fusion, Gen, Inspired by Kuroshitsuji, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isacsm/pseuds/isacsm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although raised by an abusive mother, a young girl continues to struggle and find comfort in the magical garden her father had created for the woman he once loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magic in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M_and_Emily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_and_Emily/gifts).



> On May 29, 2015, I woke up from a really crazy dream that was kind of a clash of Kuroshitsuji characters and magic. I decided to put it into writing. It’s not fanfiction, although I used names in the Kuroshitsuji manga/anime because those were the names mentioned in the dream. I tried as much as possible to retain the essence of my dream, but it isn't 100% as exact as my dream because I had to tweak it a bit (for instance, my dream was set on the 1800s but I changed the years a bit).
> 
> I originally saved this as a draft on Tumblr, but now that I've got an account on here, I decided to post it here! Comments on how to improve it and what you think would be much appreciated but I don't exactly do well with negative vibes. Cheers!

The world is ridden with every single great thing that Mother Earth has given to us, although us humans still continue to exploit Her gifts with the power and greed we so love to keep our grasp on. Nature continues to bless us, while humans continue to ruin Her. In this unending cycle of creation and destruction, one girl stood out, for she used the power and money she has in the palm of her hands for our world’s greater good.

 

* * *

 

**1900.**  That was the year I was born. By the time my father had turned twenty, he married a woman who was a mere eighteen years-old. My father needed a wife by his side though, because of everyone’s belief that a man is stronger with one. After all, the queen has more moves on the chessboard. My father was madly in love with this woman that their wedding was one of the biggest events in the country, timing it on the turn of a new century. Because my father so loved his new wife, he had given her one of the best wedding gifts anyone could ever ask for. Along with his manor, that has been a family heirloom from generations past, he had one of the biggest gardens created for her on a huge lot just behind his manor. The garden was a national heritage, for aside from the beautiful plants, tall trees, and vast ponds and plains it had, there was a rumor that is was ridden with magic, the kind of magic that everyone says only existed in that garden. It was a sight everyone loved, and it was the greatest proclamation of love one man had made for her wife that everyone has ever seen.

It’s no surprise though that my father would fall “in love” with a woman like Rachel. She had the perfect body, the most beautiful blonde hair, and the most dazzling face that all the women envied, but all the men loved. It was only fitting that she would go for one of the most handsome and richest men in the world. My father was a man with the money and power that most countries envied, but instead of using it to exploit the world of its resources, he has continually embraced the world’s resources and made the most out of it in the best way possible, the biggest garden in the country, free for all to visit.

Shortly after, I was born. Everyone in our household, my governess included, said that my father was filled with joy, but my mother with envy. It was not that my mother did not love me; after all, she carried me for nine months. It was that there were rumors my mother only married my father for the money he had. Me in the way meant her inheritance was about to get smaller. I never viewed my mother as such until one day, while father was in a short business venture out of the country, I saw her with another man, who clearly was not my father, inside their bedroom. I did not know what they were doing then, but once my mother saw me, she instantly stood up, grabbed me by my wrist, dragged me along the corridor and pushed me to the wall.

“What did you see, sweetie?” she asked me, her voice, although soft scared me to death.

“I... I saw you with another man, mommy.” I answered honestly. She then pushed me back even harder, applying pressure on my small body.

“I asked you sweetie, what did you see?” she asks once more.

“You with anothe-” I say until applied even more pressure on my small body.

“Me with what, sweetie?” she asks one last time.

“Nothing!” I say with tears in my eyes, both from lying and from the pain mother had inflicted on me.

“Good.” she says as she lets go of me. She then stands up and walks back into her room as a continue crying. My governess asked me what was wrong, and why I was crying, but I could never answer to her for sheer fear of my own mother.

 

* * *

 

**1908.**  That was the year my father set his office was set on fire. A body was discovered, although it was so burnt it could not be recognized as his. Everyone knew it was his though, because who else could possibly be in his office? Shortly after, a suicide note was discovered, written and signed by him. I was never given the chance to see the suicide note my father wrote, as it was kept away from me. I cried so hard when I found out my father was gone, but I cried even harder at the thought that I had to live with a whore of a mother. Everyone else kept saying I should not feel so sad, that I should not cry so hard, because I had inherited most of my father’s money, most of his property, and most of his company since his death. Everyone clearly did not understand though, since they were so wrapped up in the money and power.

Once my father had passed away, the first course of action my mother did to keep having more money was to charge everyone for entrance into her garden. She would say it was for the maintenance of the gardens, and so everyone would keep visiting. As time passed by though, the garden began to deteriorate, and the magic slowly disappeared. When I was younger, the winds would speak to me, telling me that some day everything will be alright. I can barely go into the garden now without crying at the thought of my loving father, and everything he has given up for my mother.

My mother has then kept on threatening me to stay, making sure that I do not tell anyone of her dirty, not so little, secrets to a single soul. She would constantly physically abuse me whenever tried to fight back and stand up for myself. I was so hurt from all the physical and emotional pain I was so close to cracking. One day, I decided to run to gardens, amid all the tears that welled up whenever I was around it. I could not stand being in that manor with that wench living inside it, probably doing immoral actions with another man. I decided to sit by a tree and sleep all my worries off, until I heard a whisper from the wind.

“Your father still loves you.”

I shot up, obviously surprised with the voice of the wind. The magic was dying, but it was still there. I waited for the wind to say something again, but after much time, only silence remained. I decided to sleep it all off again, until suddenly, I heard another whisper from the wind.

“Your aunt loves you too.”

_My aunt?_  Once again, I shot up surprised. Why would my aunt be in the picture? My aunt ran from home a few years after her sister’s marriage with my father.  _What kind of secrets does this garden hold?_

If my aunt stood next to my mother, all the men would choose my mother instead of my aunt. My aunt was not the ugliest person in the world, she was just as beautiful as my mother, but she was never as radiant as my mother. Her dark, brunette hair was considered dull by many, and anyone would be surprised to know that she was actually related to my mother. She believed in independence, studying in college while all the other girls her age were finding husbands to marry. I believe she met my father only after her sister’s marriage to him. She soon, presumably, left the country, without telling her sister. I remember meeting her before she left though, telling me to depend on the gardens whenever there was something wrong.

“The magic in the gardens are real, dear,” she told me the last time we saw each other, “as long as you believe in it. Believe me, anything is possible.”

People say she ran away for various reasons; some would say she was depressed, others would say she wanted a better life in a better country, others would say that she simply wanted to improve on her job and studies in a different place where she would not be judged for her choices. None of the reasons were ever the same, and so I always thought that maybe they were rumors. After what the winds whispered to me though, I was beginning to think otherwise.

 

* * *

 

**1910.**  That was the year I decided to stand up for myself. Years after father’s death, my mother has continued to physically and emotionally abuse me, with words that has hurt my feelings and violence that has hurt my body even more. Whenever I felt hurt, I would always retreat to the gardens, but now the gardens have turned into more of a wasteland. The ponds have gotten green with algae, the stone pathways slowly forming moss, and the flowers slowly withering. Everything I loved was slowly dying, and it was difficult to think about the “magic” that this garden used to have. It had been two years since the winds whispered to me with a sparkle of hope, and perhaps it was indeed too good to be true. If my father truly loved me, he would not leave me with a woman like Rachel, and if my aunt truly loves me, she would come back and try to take custody of me.

I sit in sadness by the tree where I heard the winds whisper to my ear. In anger I began to walk away, because indeed it was all  _too good to be true_.

“But everything is not ‘ _too good to be true_ ’,” I heard another say. It was not the winds, that much I was sure of. It was something else, but it still had a magical tinge to it. I look back and see a carnation standing out near the tree. I jump in sheer amazement, not because a carnation had spurt out of nowhere, but it spurt at this very moment. Of all my time near the tree, I have never seen a carnation near me. I approach the carnation and hold on to it, ready to pluck it, but once I tug I feel a pain on my hand. I instantly remove it and see it bleeding with a thorn on it.  _Carnations with thorns?_  I view it as a message; perhaps this carnation should never be plucked, perhaps it is meant to stay near this tree. I lie down next to it, waiting for it to speak again, but it does not. In disdain, I walk back out and begin to walk back to my mother’s house, which was formerly my father’s grand manor.

“Where have you been?!” my mother shouts once she sees me.

“In the gardens, I promise!” I instantly answer.

She pushes me back against the wall and starts to shout at me. Amid tears welling in my eyes I decide to push her back, and when I did it was a whole lot harder than I thought.

“How could you do that to me? I am your mother!” she shouts back at me in an instant.

“And you were father’s wife! How could you cheat on him multiple times? I know you cheat on him, I know you do!” I shout back at her, with tears flowing through my face. I instantly run to my room and lock the door, while my mother attempts to chase me, shouting at me at every single second. I get my bag and start to pack a few clothes. Once I step out I hear my mother still shouting at me at the top of her voice, and I instantly run to her room and start rummaging through all of her files. She catches up though and gets a hold of me, and as I struggle I find what I have been looking for all this time: father’s suicide note, and his will and testament. I instantly open it and skim through it and read that father had found out that mother had been cheating on him with multiple men, and that because of this revelation he has left absolutely nothing to my mother. My mother tries to get hold of the documents and of me as I break free from her grasp and run down.

By now the tables have turned, my mother is the one in tears as I find out she has been holding me captive simply because of the money I have. She begs for me to stay as I leave the manor. She grabs me one last time, harder than ever, and drags me to the gardens, particularly to a pond that has gotten so dirty you can barely see what was inside. She puts her hands in and gives me three shells. Kneeling down, she tells me, “Listen to these shells, listen to them! They have messages from your father. He wants me to take care of you, he wants us to stay together!”

I instantly push her aside and tell her to stop. “I am not falling for this!” I grab the shells she has given to me and throw them to the ground. She grabs me by the neck, choking me one last time, while threatening me.

“Fine, then leave this damn manor, leave this damn garden! Go to the lawyers, go to your beloved father’s company and let us see who they will believe, who’s side they are on! You are nothing but a mere child.” she says before she pushes me to the ground. She composes herself and goes back to the manor, but before she goes in, she says, “And keep the damn documents. It is not like it will help you in any way.”

I begin to cry, all alone in the garden my father so lovingly built for my mother. As I reread the suicide note, it pains me to realize that my father had loved my mother with all of his heart, but unfortunately the case was not the same, as he had caught her in an act of infidelity. In agony I grab hold of the shells I threw earlier and put it against my ears. I swap between each shell but still, it remains silent. I continue to sob as I place the shells on a bench near the pond. Suddenly, I hear the shells speak distorted words. “Go... your aunt... your father... out there...” As I place my ear near the shells, the words become clearer.

“Go to your aunt. Your father is out there.”

I am instantly taken back with this revelation. Suddenly the shells were telling me that I should go to my aunt, and that my father was still somewhere out there.  _But how can father be alive? Where can Aunt Angelina possibly be?_  

Most of our past household’s staff has retired. Most of them had stayed because of my father’s kindness, but with that gone, there was no way they could be paid to serve a sour wench like Rachel. The only one who remained though was my governess, and as I continued crying in agony near the pond, my governess approaches me.

“My dear, is there anything I can do for you? I know there is something wrong. Is there any way I can serve you?” she asks me.

I just shake my head as a continue crying.

“Has the garden spoken to you?” she asks me. This question obviously surprised me but as I look back and see her face, I nod. She approaches me and sits next to me.

“The magic in this garden is indeed real. It spoke to me once as well. I was considering leaving this household but one visit to these gardens made me think otherwise. They told me to stay because you needed someone to take care of you. They told me that it was my duty to do the job Rachel has failed to do. I have never gotten any bigger purpose in life than that.” she explains to me as I continue to cry. I hug her and cry on her shoulder, as she continues to comfort me. “My dear, what did the garden tell you?”

“To go to Aunt Angelina.”

Silence spread as I said those five words. Shortly after, though, my governess tells me to stand up and follow her to her small servant’s den. She opens her drawer and hands me a ticket and a few coins. She then gives me instructions, take the southbound train and go down at the last train station. I should then grab a ride, offering these few coins, to the university. I look for Doctor Angelina, and from there I should be safe. I ask her how she has found all of this out but she simply tells me that my dear father had told her all of this before his death.

“Is father really dead?” I ask her in curiosity. “The shells from the garden have said otherwise.”

My governess responds by saying, “If you believe it then I suppose it is indeed true.” She then bids me farewell as I walk out of the manor, away from the gardens and towards the train station.

 

* * *

 

**1920.**  That was the year I finally returned to the garden. The car pulls back to where my father’s manor used to be. Well, make no mistake, it is still there, but has been destroyed since World War I. My governess opens the door of the car for us and I step out of the car. I step outside what was my father’s family heirloom, mostly destroyed by the bombs dropped on it.

The past ten years have obviously been a ride like no other. As soon as I went down that last station, grabbed the ride to the university my governess told me about, I saw my aunt. I obviously could not believe it at first but she said that she has since been studying to become successful. My father apparently staged his own demise and the very first person he contacted that he could trust was my mother’s sister. Ironically, Aunt Angelina hated her sister for multiple reasons, but the biggest one was that she was a whore who did not deserve my father’s love. My father, along the way, started a new business with some of the money he has kept for himself, with a little help from my mother’s sister. A bond was formed between them, and as I reunited with them they had already been living together, happily married. I was obviously angry with my father at first for not coming back although he was alive, but he explained to me that it was all risky as he was creating a brand new company of his own. I would not accept it at first, but he gladly and lovingly fed me, sheltered me, and clothed me even though I was incredibly infuriated by his actions. He even contacted my governess back at home to take the next train so that she can come live with us, with rewards far greater than she has ever gotten before. As I grew older, I understood that he never let me go, making sure that the winds, flowers and shells in the garden would always remind me of that.

Ten years after, and I am back in the midst of my old home. I decide to go inside and the first person I see is a woman lying down on a couch.

“Mother?” I ask as I approach her, barely recognizing her. She has aged even more than my father, aunt and I ever have the past ten years.

“My darling daughter, is that you?” she responds as she approaches me. She hugs me and starts welling up in tears while I keep a straight face.

“Where have you been?” she further asks, and then sees examines me, my matured body and, with greed still tainted in her soul, my attire. “Where did you get such nice clothes? Who is the rich man you are now digging gold from?” That’s when I snap and I instantly brush her hands off of me.

“Sweetie, I was just asking,” she says, “maybe you can introduce your mother to him.”

“You think that the only way a woman can get rich is through a man! You don’t work hard and strive to become independent.” I retort to her face, “You are a spoiled brat!” As I say that, she slaps my face so hard I could feel my face warming up.

“I am still your mother, you ungrateful-” as she’s about to hit me even more, my father grabs hold of her from behind. Mother looks back and sees the face of her past lover.

“V-V-Vincent, I thought you were...” she begins to utter.

“Dead? Oh, you have killed me long ago.” he says as he pushes her to the ground. “Shall we go to the garden, love?”

“Yes, please,” I say as I wrap my arm around his.

We both step out to the garden, that used to be so filled with magic, now completely destroyed by the war. No words could describe the ruins of what used to be the most magical place in the country.

“How could you say that?” my mother shouts from behind, “You left me nothing! Now you come back here-”

“Left you nothing? I left you this garden, this manor. Still you say I left you nothing?” my father responds, obviously disappointed in my mother, “You could not even take care it.” My mother then tries to attack my father, but he just pushes her to the ground once more.

“My goodness father, where were you when mother was choking me to death?” I ask him, walking toward where the pond used to be, “I remember she was doing so here, too.” I say as I stand on the same exact spot, or where it used to be, anyway. My father approaches me and kisses my head, “I am truly sorry I was not there for you, but at least now I am.” he says as I nod in contentment.

My father then looks back at my mother, who is crying on the floor. “You’re saying I left you nothing? Perhaps I should leave you nothing.” he then looks at me at says, “This entire garden is yours now, do whatever you please with it. Bring back its magic.” Hearing him say this has never made me any more excited. He gave me the responsibility of returning the garden back to its former glory, constantly believing in my ability to do so.

“My dear, where are you?” says a voice from behind. My aunt then approaches us and says, “I’ve been-”

“Angelina!” my mother shouts, begging with tears to her own sister, “Help me please! Vincent is trying to take away-”

“-what you took away from him?” her own sister finishes, “I am quite aware.” She then approaches her husband and wraps her arms around his.

“How could you?! You get mad at me for cheating on you when you have been doing so yourself!” my mother shouts in anger.

“I do believe I vowed that, ‘Until death do us part’,” my father replies, “as far as we are all concerned, I am dead now, right?” My father smirks as we all walk away from the gardens, and out of the manor.

My mother continues to shout for my father, her sister, and most of all, me. Before I leave though, I tell her, “Please evacuate the premises, I do not want to see you around by tomorrow, or else I will be calling the officials.”

“You have no right to do so,” my mother shouts back, “this property is mine!”

“Not anymore,” I say as the three of us go back into our car and drive away, leaving a distraught Rachel on the porch of her then-illustrious home.

 

* * *

 

**1924.**  That was the year the garden was brought back to glory. After approximately four years, the garden was brought back to its former glory, with its magic stronger than ever.

It took a lot of my time and money to recreate and revive the garden, since a lot of people did not believe in my potential to bring it back to its past glory. A lot of people began to feel disdained, not believing that the magic was still present in the garden. If it was present, they would ask, then where was it during the World War? Whenever someone was feeling hopeless, that person would visit the garden and it would not feel any more despair; that was why the garden was so magical. But still, everyone would wonder where the magic disappeared to during the World War.

I tried to explain to all of them that it was our greed that destroyed the magic. I tried to explain to all of them that it had started to disappear when my mother started to fund everyone for entrance, to which others would argue back as the “reasonable thing to do”. It was all about profit and revenue for them. If there was nothing to gain, then why bother? Did they ever think that when Mother Earth started to give us humans life? It does not seem like Mother Earth benefits from all the nuclear bombs and wars we do on Her.

Alas, I am only female and do not know of what I am trying to do. I continue to persevere though, until I get some volunteers who are willing to bring the garden back to life, and some donors, aside from my own father, who were willing to invest on the garden. It took four long years to bring back, but during its construction, everyone who worked on its repair would hear the whisper of the winds get louder. Everyone was beginning to feel the magic slowly come back to life until we finally resuscitated it.

During the grand opening, everyone was happy. I have never seen a lovelier sight in my entire life. My father wrapped his arms around me, proud of what I have accomplished. I did not need a person I was “in love” with to create such a wonderfully magical garden, all I needed was my own self.

 

* * *

 

Although the garden was ruined by the end of World War II, everyone would still visit the garden and try to once again revive it and recreate it to its former glory. It was a supposed to be a cycle of creation and destruction for power, but there were always people who thought otherwise. For whenever someone needed a little magic in their lives, all they had to do was find the magic within their own garden and believe in it.  _The End._


End file.
